We were robbed but I’m sadder about the bad Tuscan bread
Someone broke into our apartment yesterday. They had pulled the key lock from the wall, smashed it open and let themselves inside. There’s something incredibly unnerving about seeing a safe place feeling subtly wrong. The spare key had been left in the door. A few lights had been left on. Doors that we’d closed when we left were now mysteriously open.
When we got to the bedroom we realised that someone had been through Beck’s suitcase and strewn the clothes around the room.
The weird thing is they hadn’t actually taken anything (yeah I know that means it technically isn’t a robbery but I’m a digital marketer and couldn’t say no to a clickbait title!). Our passports and cash were safe. They hadn’t even bothered with our Chromecast (thank god, I was enjoying Baby Reindeer).
The whole thing was just odd. We couldn’t stay there anymore. Even if it was just some kids taking a chance, the illusion of safety had vanished. The owner was mortified and helped us find a spare place for the next few days.
But our time in Chianti is over, and we’re going to move onto Florence early. Tuscany is a beautiful part of the world, but I just can’t get over how banal their bread is. They don’t put any salt in it. And it’s rock hard. During our first grocery trip we thought the bread had just gone stale. Nope. All the restaurants serve it too. They don’t salt their butter either - so the entire thing tastes like you’ve poured engine oil on a pizza box. Apparently, it’s because they often serve it with rich foods like lard spread, which, don't get me wrong, is delicious. But I can’t afford (financially or biologically) to eat that every day.
So long, Chianti. Love your wine but sort your bread (and non-violent crimes) out, yeah?